


A Silver of Hope

by SkystoneJexel



Series: The Skystone Sword [5]
Category: Runescape (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Ivandis Flail, Legacy of Seergaze, Meiyerditch, Mort Myre, Morytania, Myreque, Paterdomus, Temple Trekking, Vampyres
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 08:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkystoneJexel/pseuds/SkystoneJexel
Summary: With the help of the Myreque and a fellow adventurer from the Champions' Guild, Jexel fights back against the vampyres' tyrannical rule over Morytania.





	1. Hidden in Meiyerditch

Jexel adjusted his tattered hood. The less that could be seen of his face, the better, for even the mere sight of a healthy-looking face, unravaged by blood tithes or malnourishment, would be enough to draw suspicion in such a place.

It was not much farther to the Myreque hideout now, but it felt as if it were a thousand miles away. In all his travels, he had never visited a land he despised more. At least the Wilderness was a dead land, silent and empty, but Meiyerditch was teeming with activity. The distant flapping of the vyres’ wings filled the air, as did the despaired cries of the citizens… so many citizens… as they were rounded up for the next tithe.

Close by, he heard a woman sobbing. “Wake up… please wake up!”

“On your feet, human! You haven’t been tithed yet!” A voice replied.

He glanced through the crumbling stone doorway beside him. Even in the darkness of Meiyerditch, he could make out the hunchbacked figure of a vampyre juvenile and a woman sitting at its feet, cradling the lifeless, blood-drained body of a young boy.

“Get up!” it shouted, raking the woman’s pale, near-skeletal arm as it forcibly dragged her to her feet.

Jexel inhaled sharply, a righteous fury burning in his heart as he clasped his hands together in prayer.

“The strength of my piety will weather this hardship.” 

As he heard the call of the Eternal Choir, strength and courage filled him, and he dashed into the street, revealing the silvthril rod that he had concealed underneath his cloak. The juvenile turned to face him…

With a satisfying thud, the rod crashed into the creature’s face, sending its blood-gorged fangs flying as it fell to the ground. Before the vampyre could retaliate, Jexel plunged the sharp base of the rod into its heart.

The vampyre wailed like a wounded beast. He refused to let up, shoving the rod deeper into its chest, pinning it to the ground with all his might.

His foe thrashed frantically, trying to escape, but its strength waned. Its struggle became slower, weaker, until it went completely still and crumbled to dust.

The flapping of the vyres’ wings was getting closer. He needed to get out of there and fast. He covered the rod with his cloak and dashed into a nearby house, the inhabitants scrambling out of his way. He climbed up the stairs, and saw that a section of the rotting wooden wall was missing. After pausing for a moment to make sure no vampyres were watching, he leapt through the gap in the wall, grabbed the frame of an adjacent building’s window, and pulled himself through.

The flapping noise got closer and closer, until it was almost directly below him. Suddenly, it stopped, and he heard the telltale, inhuman footsteps of a vyrewatch from the level below, the sound of shoeless, clawed feet tapping upon the floor.

He could not risk being tithed, lest a vyre catch a glimpse of the weapons under his robe, but how could he escape their notice? His eyes darted around the room in search of a place to hide, and he spotted a wardrobe. Old, decayed, and nearly falling apart, but large enough for him to fit inside. He climbed into the wardrobe, careful not to pull the doors off their weakened hinges as he closed them.

The footsteps gradually drew closer until they were no more than a meter or two away from where he hid then stopped. He breathed as quietly and evenly as he could, difficult as it was in such a putrid and claustrophobic place, and stood still as a mountain. The slightest sound could give him away now.

Suddenly, there was a sniffing noise. Hungry, bestial, persistent, hunting for the scent of human blood, and coming closer still…

Jexel steeled his heart. If a vyrewatch found him, they weren’t taking his blood without a fight. His weapons would do nothing to them, but perhaps if he could hold them off long enough to teleport…

The sniffing stopped, and he heard the vyre’s steps again, growing quieter until they faded beneath the lamentations of Meiyerditch and the shouted demands of its vampyric masters. He remained concealed, waiting for what felt like an eternity. It was so wrong… to stand idly, out of sight, while so many were suffering, bleeding, and dying around him. He reminded himself that there was nothing he could do to help them, not yet, and that the success of his mission was the best hope they had.

Finally, the city seemed to quiet slightly. Was the tithing over? Hearing only distant weeping that seemed to come from every direction at once, he emerged from the wardrobe, giving a sorrowful sigh for all whom he could not save. There was no time to dwell on such things, however. The Myreque still needed him.

Jexel traversed the ghetto, jumping and climbing across its dilapidated wooden apartments when the vyres were not looking, until at last he came to an old building that housed the secret base of the Myreque. Built from bricks of whitish-gray stone that were cracked and weathered with age, it was one of many structures in Meiyerditch that dated back to a time so long ago, it might as well have been a fairy tale. A time when white-feathered wings caught the sunlight above and warriors in golden armor lined the city’s mighty walls.

He paused for a moment to study a mural on the wall. From what was left of its colors, it seemed to depict the star of Saradomin shining over an icyene who was harvesting grain with a sickle.

The sickle protruded slightly from the rest of the wall. Delicately, he pushed it in. With a click, one of the floor’s tiles rose and shifted to reveal a ladder leading down into a secret basement. He climbed through and pulled a lever at the bottom to conceal the entrance once more.

“Welcome, Jexel,” said a tough, yet weary-looking man with graying hair.

“You saw through my disguise? With eyes like those, Vertida, I’m lucky you’re not a vyre,” Jexel replied, removing his tattered robes to reveal a vivid, dark blue traveler’s tunic, the Skystone Sword secure in its scabbard, and his silvthril rod. “How are the Myreque faring?”

“Safalaan, Andiess, Kael, and Mekritus have gone to investigate the old laboratory,” answered Vertida. “As for Flaygian and Augustus, they’ve been studying that book on haemalchemy. I understand they’ve come up with a plan, but they’ll need the rod to put it into action. They requested you speak with them as soon as you arrived.”

Jexel nodded. “Very well, let’s not waste any time.” 

Vertida motioned for Jexel to follow him through a dimly lit hallway leading deeper into the hideout, past the Myreque’s quarters and the armory, and into the command center. An oil lantern illuminated one of the tables, where two men sat and examined some sort of spear or war scythe. There were mushrooms growing along its shaft and its head was a large, curved black blade, a sickly green glowing substance sticking to the tip.

“Which means that spiders also have an affinity for blood energy?” asked one of the men, a pale, black-haired figure with dreadlocks and a short, full beard.

“Precisely,” replied the other, an old man with a large, rounded nose, whom Jexel recognized as Flaygian Screwte. “But despite their similarities, they’re fundamentally incompatible. The blood and venom of spiders are so similar to the essence of vampyres that their bodies simply absorb it without processing it. Once absorbed, they eat away at the vampyre’s essence until there’s nothing left of it.”

Flaygian ran his finger along the flat of the spear’s blade. “With that in mind, your araxyte fang might make an effective head for the flail.”

The black-haired man shook his head. “That would mess up the flail’s balance. It’s going to be awkward enough to use without shoddy weight distribution making it even harder. Besides, with how rare and powerful adult araxytes are, I doubt we’ll be able to supply the other fighters with one of these anytime soon; I barely got out with my life.”

Flaygian nodded. “I suppose the silvthril sickle will have to do, then.” Looking up from the table, he finally noticed Jexel and Vertida standing at the doorway. “Ah, I believe our guest has arrived.”

The black-haired man rose from his chair, and Jexel noticed that he was wearing an unusual suit of armor that seemed to be made from some kind of strange metal. It resembled bronze, but seemed more flexible and less bulky, almost like leather. Perhaps it was enchanted in some way?

“Jexel Luminel, I presume? I’ve heard a lot about you in the Champions’ Guild,” said the black-haired man, his voice remaining stoic. Jexel could not help but sense that the man held a lukewarm opinion of him, though he could not tell for sure.

“And you must be Augustus Ashworth,” Jexel replied, shaking the man’s hand. “Your reputation precedes you, sir. I’m honored to have a chance to work with you.”

“Likewise,” Augustus nodded. “I take it you’ve just come from the palace in Varrock?”

“I’ve spoken with the king and Archbishop Raispher,” said Jexel. “They’ve enacted a mercenary protocol, but… that’s all the help we’re going to get. Raispher refused to send Misthalin’s army.”

“And I suppose he gave you some rubbish about the Edicts of Guthix?” Augustus replied.

Jexel’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?” he asked.

“Call it an educated guess,” said Augustus. “You can ask me later if you want, but for now, we have more important things to focus on. You’ve brought the Rod of Ivandis, I see?”

Jexel nodded, handing the rod to Augustus. “I got the message you left at the base in Burgh De Rott. You have a plan involving the rod?”

“From the haemalchemy book, I believe I've found some evidence to support the idea that vampyres, especially vyrewatch, have a limited mind-reading ability, sort of like an 'imminent danger' sensory perception.” said Flaygian. “They can sort of ‘predict’ the next attack maneuver, so they can then defend against it or simply move out of its way in time to take no damage at all. It seems to come naturally to them.”

“What we need is an unorthodox weapon with a lot of moving parts,” Augustus added. “Something the vyres won’t be able to predict. That’s where the rod comes in.”

Jexel shook his head. “I can tell you from experience that the rod does nothing against vyres.”

“Not by itself,” Augustus replied. “But as a component of something we’ve been calling the Ivandis Flail. If we use the rod as the shaft of a flail, with a silvthril sickle as the head, we just might have a weapon that can take down a vyrewatch.”

Jexel raised an eyebrow, trying to picture such a strange weapon in his mind. “A flail with a sickle for a head? Are you sure that’ll work as a weapon at all?”

“It won’t be easy to use, that’s for sure, but nobody said this was going to be easy,” said Augustus. “Now that we’ve got all the parts, it shouldn’t take me long to build a prototype. If it works on the dummies, we’ll be ready for some field testing.”

“And if that works,” Vertida added. “We can start supplying the mercenaries and the rest of the Myreque with these weapons. Finally, we’ll have a weapon that can truly challenge Drakan’s control of these lands.”

Vertida turned his gaze away from the others, his attention caught by the barely-audible clicking noise of the trapdoor at the entrance. “It looks like the others have returned. Augustus, get started on that prototype. Flaygian, see if you can find anything else useful in that book. Jexel and I will go and see what Safalaan has discovered.”

“Yes sir!” Flaygian replied. Augustus simply nodded and made some space on the table for the rod.

Jexel and Vertida made their way back to the entrance, and sure enough, Safalaan’s party was there. At least, most of the party was.

Safalaan, Kael, and Mekritus were there, but Andiess was nowhere to be found. Kael’s hardy physique and thick beard belied the deep vulnerability and sadness that Jexel could see in his eyes, and Mekritus was shivering uncontrollably, his pale hands nervously clasped together. Safalaan, despite towering over the other two, looked utterly exhausted, as if he would collapse if he took one more step.

“Where is Andiess?” Vertida asked.

Kael winced, as if the question had cut straight to his core.

“We were attacked by vyres. Andiess… didn’t survive,” answered Safalaan. “There was… something there. Some curious stones… it felt like they were magical.”

Safalaan took a deep breath. “I’m sorry… the fight… was draining. We’ll talk more about this later.” He returned to his quarters, his gait slow and weak.

“Andiess…” Vertida bowed his head for a moment in reverence for his fallen comrade. “I’m going to check on Safalaan and make sure he’s alright. The Myreque has lost enough for one day. Mekritus, Kael, get some rest. Tomorrow, when we have recovered, we will honor Andiess’ sacrifice.”

With that, Vertida too left for the Myreque’s quarters. Kael seemed to follow at first, but headed instead to the training room, his hands balled into fists as he walked.

The base was eerily quiet for a moment, and all that Jexel heard was Mekritus’ panicked breathing.

“It’s alright, Mekritus, we’re safe now,” he said, wiping a droplet of water off his shoulder that had dripped from the ceiling.

“I kept swinging this ‘ere sickle, jus’ kept swinging and swinging, but it wouldn’t hit ‘em no matter what,” Mekritus replied, still shaking. “If we couldn’t even beat ‘em four against two, how are we gonna beat the ‘undreds of ‘em flying around Meiyerditch? It’s ‘opeless... we’re dead meat.”

Jexel placed a hand on the fighter’s shoulder. “We’ll think of something. Augustus and Flaygian are working on a weapon to fight the vyres as we speak. We may be outnumbered, but that doesn’t make things hopeless. There’s a saying from the Book of Wisdom, spoken by Saradomin himself: ‘a wise man with nothing may defeat a thousand fully armored foes before they have even realized they are under attack.’”

“I ‘spose we gotta try, but... do we really got a chance?” asked Mekritus. “If it weren’t for Safalaan back there, we’d ‘ave all been dead.”

“Safalaan saved you?” Jexel asked.

“Well… yeah, ‘least I think so,” Mekritus replied. “We were fighting the vyres, when one of ‘em clawed ‘im real good. I thought he was done for, but then…” he paused, as if he had no idea what to say next.

“But then?”

“Then… he blummin’ floated. Floated up into the air and… there was this blue light… he just started glowin’ with this blue light an’ the vyres scarpered.”

“A blue light…” Jexel whispered.

“Jexel, you know what it mighta been?” asked Mekritus.

“Not for sure,” Jexel replied. “It sounds almost like the Prayer of Redemption, which calls upon the Eternal Choir to unleash a surge of healing energy when one is gravely wounded, but… not quite…”

It was then that he remembered an old story he had once heard about an icyene scout from the God Wars, who saved an entire village from a Tsutsaroth demon. It was said that the demon’s magic had burned the icyene horribly, but she was then engulfed in a brilliant blue glow, healing her wounds and stunning the demon long enough for her to impale it with her spear.

Safalaan’s towering height. His eyes that almost seemed to glow in the dark. Could it really be?

Suddenly, yelling echoed from the training room. Jexel and Mekritus rushed over to find Kael, sickle in hand, hacking wildly at a practice dummy.

“Kael…” Mekritus called out.

“Coward… coward… COWARD!” Kael snarled to himself, keeping his eyes fixated on the dummy as he tore a sizable scrap of cloth from it with the tip of his sickle.

“Kael!” Mekritus shouted. “Come on, mate! This isn’t gonna ‘elp!”

Kael finally turned his gaze to Mekritus, staring at him for a moment, his hands shaking with rage as he clutched his silvthril sickle. “I should have helped… I should have hacked them to bits!” he growled.

“You couldn’t ‘ave saved ‘im, mate!” Mekritus replied.

Kael took a deep breath, dropped his sickle, and seated himself on the floor against the wall, tears streaming down his face. “Those bastards should have killed me instead. At least the Myreque wouldn’t have lost anything of worth.”

Mekritus took Kael’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Don’t say that, mate. You’re the one who got me into the Myreque. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t ‘ave been here.”

Kael nodded weakly and embraced his comrade. “I promised you no matter what happened, we’d stand together. When I ran, I… I let you down. I let the Myreque down.”

“There’ll be another chance, mate,” said Mekritus. “Flaygian an’ Augustus, they’re workin’ on a weapon ta get those vyres.”

Kael stood up straighter, wiping the tears from his face. “I’m not going to give up. It’s just… it happened so fast. Andiess was gone… just like that.”

“Andiess is at peace now,” Jexel replied. “He would have wanted you to be at peace with your choices as well. I know it’s difficult at a time like this, but please, try to keep a level head. The best way we can honor his memory is through our victory in the battles ahead.”

Kael nodded, picking up his sickle. “Next time we fight the vyres, they’re tasting silver.”

“‘Next time’ might not be so far off, Kael,” said Augustus as he stepped into the training room. “This is the Ivandis Flail. Assuming the tests go well, this will be our weapon against the vyres.”

In his hands, he held the prototype. A chain had been attached to the tip of the Rod of Ivandis, linking it to a silvthril sickle set with an emerald. Certainly not a weapon one would find in the hands of an ordinary fighter, but this was no ordinary fight.

“That’s going to be our weapon?” asked Kael skeptically.

“How the bloody Zamorak is anyone s’pose ta’ use that thing?” Mekritus added.

“Very carefully, Mekritus.” Augustus stepped towards one of the training dummies. “Let’s see how this goes.”

Gripping the rod with both hands, he swung at the dummy. The sickle head arced through the air, only to bounce off his target harmlessly.

Augustus frowned. He struck again, only to be met with another glancing blow.

There was a long, awkward silence, and Augustus made a face halfway between embarrassment and frustration. 

“Umm… I’ll get it eventually. It’s just going to take practice.” He swung a third time, attempting to strike with the sharp tip of the sickle, only to miss the dummy completely.

“Can I try?” Jexel asked.

“Take it,” Augustus said, handing the flail to him without the slightest hesitation.

Jexel took a moment to examine the weapon more closely, getting a feel for its weight, its balance, and the way it moved. Once he was ready, he swung at the dummy, catching it within the sickle’s curvature and leaving a small, but noticeable scrape as he raked the flail across it.

He prepared another strike. As he threw his weight into a downward swing, a flash of silver blurred forth, piercing his target deeply with the sickle’s tip.

Augustus and the Myreque stared at him with speechless amazement.

“This flail is actually not much different from the ones my mother taught me to use,” Jexel explained. “Of course, those were for threshing grain, not fighting vyres.”

“I... think it’s safe to say you should be the first one to test this thing in the field,” said Augustus.

“We should get some rest first,” Jexel replied. “We’ve all had a difficult day, and we’ll need some time to think of a plan.”

“I second that,” Mekritus added.

“That would be nice…” said Kael.

“Agreed,” said Augustus. “Let’s get some sleep for now. In the morning, we’ll take the fight to the vyres.”

The Myreque’s quarters were not the most luxurious Jexel had ever seen. The beds were uncomfortably hard, being little more than glorified benches with some cloth draped over them, and in poor condition to boot. Every so often, he would hear an annoying dripping sound from the ceiling, the moisture from the ground above seeping through. Still, he had put up with worse, and the trek across Morytania had been exhausting. Before long, he was sound asleep.


	2. A Break in the Shroud

“Wake up, Jexel,” he heard a voice call. Opening his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of Safalaan, those curious blue eyes staring into him.

Jexel rose to his feet. Before doing anything else, he made sure the Skystone Sword was still beside him. He picked it up and fastened its scabbard securely to his belt. “Safalaan, it’s good to see you well.”

“Likewise, Jexel,” Safalaan replied. “You’re needed in the command center. The Myreque have a mission for you.”

Wasting no time, Jexel followed Safalaan to the command center, where the rest of the Sanguinesti Myreque and Augustus had gathered. Vertida and Flaygian were discussing something at the table, while Augustus, Kael, and Mekritus stood attentively at the far end of the room.

“Ah, Jexel, you’re awake,” said Vertida. “Have a seat. We have important business to discuss. Flaygian, get that map ready.”

“Yes sir!” said Flaygian, spreading a map of the Sanguinesti Region across the table with various color-coded symbols and arrows on it. “While you were in Varrock speaking with the king, the Sanguinesti fighters have been keeping an eye on the vyres’ movements. It would be suicidal to engage them in Meiyerditch, flail or not, but I believe we’ve found a vulnerability we can exploit.”

“A vulnerability?” Jexel asked.

“It’s normally rare for the vyres to stray far beyond the walls of Meiyerditch,” Vertida explained. “Recently, though, we’ve spotted them going much farther out, and there seems to be a pattern to it. We can only guess that with Veliaf’s fighters putting so much pressure on the juves lately, the vyrewatch have been keeping a closer eye on tithes in the outlying settlements.”

Flaygian pointed to a small dot on the northwest edge of his map. “You see this, here? This is Pearhollow, a village of about eighty people on the edge of the Sanguinesti Region. Veliaf’s fighters recently liberated it from the juvinates, but with the village’s tithes due today, they’ll likely send a vyre or two to collect.”

“So Pearhollow is my best opportunity to confront a vyrewatch alone?” asked Jexel.

“Exactly,” Flaygian replied.

“Here are your orders,” said Safalaan. “You will set out for Pearhollow immediately with the Ivandis Flail, and await the arrival of the vyrewatch. Slay them on sight, along with any other vampyres you encounter. Once you have done so, see if there’s any other help you can provide to the villagers.”

“Safalaan, I have a request,” said Augustus, spear in hand. “I’d like to go with Jexel. We don’t know for sure if the flail is going to work, and if things get ugly, two of us will have a better chance of making it out alive than one.

“Besides.” He flourished his spear. “This thing may be useless against vyres, but it’ll come in handy if they bring any juves along.”

“Request granted, Augustus,” Safalaan replied. “Now, gather your supplies and head to Pearhollow without delay, and good luck to you both. Myreque prevail!”

“Myreque prevail!” the others shouted in unison.

~***~

“It must be around here somewhere,” said Jexel, seating himself on the trunk of a fallen tree to take a look at his map. The journey north from Meiyerditch had been long and exhausting, and any opportunity to rest his legs, however briefly, was welcome.

Augustus took the lead, trying to make out anything he could in the thick fog.

“Do you see anything?” asked Jexel.

“Hmm… there might be something there,” Augustus replied, walking farther along until he himself was partially shrouded by the fog. “Found it! There’s definitely a village ahead!”

Jexel stood up, put the map away, and readied his flail. As he rejoined Augustus, he saw it too. The shape of houses in the distance, too orderly to be anything natural. At last, they had reached Pearhollow.

As the two adventurers approached the village, Jexel thought he saw someone in the distance, but the next moment, they were gone. Had he imagined it?

They made their way through a small field where the villagers presumably farmed what meager crops would grow in Morytania’s tainted, sunless soil. Jexel identified many potato plants, a few of which looked diseased, and some pear bushes that had recently been picked clean. There were some rusty secateurs lying carelessly on the ground, as if someone had left in a hurry.

Even in the village square, things were eerily silent, save for the sound of the adventurers’ footsteps upon its gravel roads. There was a well in the center, surrounded by several old houses built from cobblestone and wooden planks, as well as a pathway leading to a house standing apart from the rest, made of a smooth, ominous gray stone, draped with a banner depicting the silver sickle of the Myreque, the blood-red banner of House Drakan lying below it in the dirt.

Not a single soul was in sight, just the rundown houses of the village, wordlessly staring at them, and the gray fog that shrouded the world beyond. Where were all the people?

Just then, Jexel caught a glimpse of a pale face peering out of a house’s window. “There’s someone there…” he whispered to Augustus.

As he locked eyes with the figure, he realized that it was a young girl with dark, braided hair, smiling at him. He smiled back.

A moment later, there was a flapping noise, and the girl quickly scurried out of sight.

“Looks like the vyrewatch showed up just in time to die,” said Augustus, holding his spear in a battle-ready stance, its tip pointed in the direction of the flapping. “I’ll keep them busy, you get in there and carve them up with the flail.”

Jexel nodded, then bowed his head slightly and closed his eyes. “The strength of my piety will weather this hardship,” he recited.

As he opened his eyes again, he saw a silhouette in the fog; a lean, vaguely humanoid figure, with clawed hands and a pair of large, batlike wings. “Come forth, you beast!” he shouted. “We won’t let your cruelty go unpunished any longer!”

The vyre emerged from the fog, revealing a pair of vivid red eyes. She was draped in a short black robe that left the arms and thighs of her bony, deathly-gray figure exposed. In her hand, she held a spiked tithing staff, and a sadistic grin stretched across her maw as she licked her fangs.

“So, the bloodsacks are getting a little uppity?” the vyre taunted. “Good! Now Vanstrom won’t mind if I drain you to the last drop.” She set herself on the ground, tossing the tithing staff aside, and charged towards the adventurers.

Jexel charged forth in turn, brandishing the flail.

The fungal shaft of Augustus’ spear glowed with magical energy. He fired a spell, unleashing a cloud of toxic mushroom spores.

Predictably, the vyre easily avoided the spore cloud, leaping at Jexel with a blur of her wings.

He sidestepped the vyre’s lunge. An instant later, she raised her claw. There was a hideous scraping noise as he parried with the rod of the flail.

Too fast. Too strong. Another swipe, another parry, and another. His balance faltered. He fell to the ground.

“Jexel!” Augustus shouted. The fanged tip of his spear glowed, blasting a stream of acid towards the vyre. She leapt away from Jexel as Augustus charged.

Get up. He had to get up. Jexel scrambled to his feet.

Augustus growled as he thrust his spear at the vyre. She sidestepped it as if it were child’s play and darted forth, tackling him to the ground.

Enough space. Barely enough time. Jexel swung the flail. The vyre bared her fangs.

Just as she lunged for Augustus’ throat, she was stopped, the flail’s blade hooked around her throat. Success!

Jexel yanked the rod, leaving a scrape across her throat as he tossed her to the ground. The vyre clutched at the wound in pain. Now was his chance!

Before she could recover, he struck her with a downward swing, piercing her wing with the flail’s sickle. The vyre shrieked and struggled to her feet, the flail still lodged in her wing. She was trying to pull herself away. Jexel pulled back, tearing her wing wide open as he freed the flail’s sickle from it.

She wailed in agony and attempted to fly away, rising into the air with a few labored, unsteady flaps, then crashed to the ground, her strength spent.

Jexel swung again. This time, the flail’s sickle impaled her straight through the forehead. A red, dust-like energy rose from the vyre’s body, and she was no more.

Jexel breathed a sigh of relief. “We did it…”

“We’ve won this battle, but something tells me Pearhollow’s problems aren’t going to go away just like that,” said Augustus, wiping the mud off his armor as he rose to his feet.

“There was someone in that house,” Jexel replied, pointing to where he had seen the girl. “We should see if there’s anything we can do to help them while we’re here.”

“Right, let’s get to it,” said Augustus, heading towards the house.

“Give me a moment,” said Jexel, examining the corpse of the vyre, the flail’s sickle still lodged in her head. As he attempted to pull it out, he found it surprisingly difficult to remove. He tugged on the sickle, but that simply dragged the corpse along with it. It was then that he noticed how stiff the vyre’s corpse was, stuck in the position she had been in when she died.

Holding the vyre down with one hand while he pulled on the sickle with the other, he finally freed the flail, almost falling over from the momentum.

Wait, what was that feeling?

He stared at the monstrous visage of the fallen vyre. There was something strange about it…

He removed one of his gloves, placing his bare hand on the vyre. It was unmistakable: there was a presence within. Trapped, terrified, tormented. Swiftly, he removed his hand, putting the glove back on.

“Augustus!” he called.

“Yeah?” said Augustus as he approached.

“Put your hand on the vyre for a moment,” said Jexel.

Augustus raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Just do it, please.”

Augustus placed his hand on the vyre’s corpse for a moment, then gave Jexel a confused look. “Why?”

“You didn’t feel it? That tortured presence… like someone buried alive,” Jexel replied.

“I didn’t feel anything,” said Augustus, giving him a strange look. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” said Jexel. “Please, we have to take this to Paterdomus. There’s a soul trapped inside, I’m sure of it. I don’t know if it can be freed, but Drezel… we have to try.”

“I… still don’t quite get what you’re talking about, but alright, I’ll go with you to Paterdomus once we’re finished here,” Augustus replied.

“Thank you,” said Jexel.

The adventurers turned their attention back to the house. They entered, the door creaking on its old hinges, to find nobody in sight, just a dark room with a table, a few chairs, pots and boxes containing various tools, and a crude stone stove. There was a door off to the side. Perhaps they were in another room?

Jexel opened the door to find a bedroom with a wardrobe. Still, there was nobody in sight. “Is anyone there?” he called out.

He heard a frightened gasp in response, coming from under the bed.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Jexel. “We’re with the Myreque. There is no need to hide.”

“The vile-watch, is it gone?” asked the voice of a young boy.

“It’s gone,” Jexel replied. “It’s safe to come out now.”

The boy, along with the girl Jexel had seen earlier, emerged from under the bed. He looked to be around eight or nine years old, with the girl perhaps a few years older. A moment later, two others stepped out of the wardrobe: a serious-looking woman with slight wrinkles around her eyes and a man with a long, full beard, the muddy sleeves on his coat suggesting he had been working in the fields.

“Thank Saradomin…” said the woman. “When we heard the vyre’s wings, we feared the worst.”

“My name is Cassandra Pallis. This is my husband Leon, and these are our children, Sophia and Alexander.”

The adventurers exchanged handshakes with the couple. “My name is Jexel Luminel. It is an honor to meet you,” said Jexel.

“Augustus Ashworth. A pleasure,” said Augustus.

“It’s good to see you. Pearhollow owes a great debt to the Myreque,” said Leon. “Sophia, Alexander, aren’t you going to say hello to our guests?”

“Hello!” said the children.

“Madam, sir, if I might ask, how is the village faring?” asked Jexel. “Is everyone else in hiding?”

“Everyone who is still here, yes,” Cassandra replied. “Leon was tending to the fields, when he saw the two of you coming.”

“In that fog, I thought you might’ve been juvinates!” Leon chuckled. “Better to be safe than sorry, right? So everyone got inside as fast as they could, tried to find places to hide where the juves wouldn’t find them. Course, right after that, something a lot worse than a juvinate showed up.”

“Pardon me, madam, but you said ‘everyone who is still here?’” said Jexel.

“Indeed,” Cassandra replied. “After the Myreque did away with the juvinates, they gathered everyone in the village square to decide who they would escort with them to the west, across the Salve. The Schneider family left with them, and they instructed everyone else to stay here until they returned, saying it was dangerous to go alone.”

A worried frown spread across her face. “A few people didn’t listen, and tried to cross the swamp on their own. I can only hope that they succeeded."

“Is it true there are no clouds in the west?” asked Sophia, eyeing the adventurers curiously. “The Myreque said you can see the sun.”

“There are clouds, but you can still see the sun, at least most of the time,” answered Jexel.

“Please… will you take my family to the west?” asked Cassandra. “If there’s anything we can offer you in return, it’s yours. Just help us leave this gods-forsaken place.”

“There’s no need for a reward, madam,” Jexel replied. “Though I do have a request to make.”

“What do you wish?” she asked.

“I believe there may be a soul trapped inside the corpse of the vyrewatch we defeated,” said Jexel. “There is a temple honoring Saradomin on the other side of the Salve, and I wish to seek the counsel of the monk who lives there, in the hopes that he will know how to free it. If we escort you to the temple, will you carry the corpse?”

Augustus gave Jexel a dirty look. “Really? You’re going to make the refugees carry our stuff?”

“We may need to use our weapons to keep them safe,” Jexel argued. “It’ll be easier for us to do that if we keep our hands free.”

Augustus sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

“It’s no trouble, sirs,” said Leon. “These arms could use a bit of work!”

“Aww, work? Work is boring!” Alexander complained.

“Don’t be rude, Alexander,” said Cassandra. “These men are here to help us, so we’re going to help them too.”

“Paterdomus is about four days from here,” said Augustus, rummaging through his pack. “I think we’ll have enough food and water, as long as we ration it carefully. Once we get to Paterdomus, we should be good. We can get more supplies there, and it’s only a couple more days from there to Varrock.”

“Shall we prepare then?” asked Cassandra. “We just need to get a few things, but we should be able to leave today, before nightfall.”

Jexel nodded. “We should leave as soon as we’re able. Gather what supplies you can.”

The Pallises took some time to gather what little food they had left: some potatoes, a few wild herbs and mushrooms, and a single Morytanian pear. Once they had collected all they needed, they took one last look around the house, and followed the adventurers into the village square.

By then, the villagers had left their hiding places and returned to their daily business. The village square was full of activity as people gathered water from the well, transported freshly harvested crops to the village’s storehouse, and fixed up houses that were in particularly bad shape. A few looked curiously at the corpse of the vyre, still lying in the village square.

“People of Pearhollow!” Leon shouted. “Can I have your attention, please?”

The villagers stopped what they were doing, and a crowd gathered in the square. Once the village was assembled. Leon spoke again. “The time has come for the Pallis family to leave Pearhollow.”

There were a few murmurs from the crowd as Leon gestured towards Jexel and Augustus. “These brave men are part of the Myreque. Thanks to them, we haven’t been tithed today, and with their help, my family will finally be free!”

There were some cheers from the crowd as Jexel stepped forward. In the sky above, there was a tiny break in the clouds, and a single ray of sunlight shined down upon the village square. He stepped into it, and the flail in his hand glimmered in the light.

“Soon we will journey to the west, across the River Salve, and into the lands of Misthalin,” said Jexel. “But our quest does not end there.”

“This is the vyrewatch that threatened Pearhollow,” he said, pointing to the vyre’s corpse with the base of the flail. “Mere days ago, vanquishing such a creature would have seemed impossible, and yet here it is. It was faster than we were. Stronger than we were. But we defeated it.”

He ran his hand along the flail’s shaft, drawing attention to the weapon that had done the impossible and brought the vyre down. “Though we must leave you for now, know that we have not forgotten you. We will never stop fighting until every last one of you is free.”

The crowd cheered again. “Myreque! Myreque!” some of them chanted. Once they had quieted down, the Pallises approached them. Friends of the family said their goodbyes and offered words of support.

As the Pallises embraced their friends for the last time, Jexel could see tears in their eyes, but they were not the same tears he had seen elsewhere in the Sanguinesti Region. Not the tears of a terrified child hiding from the vampyres, or of a man mourning a loved one who had succumbed to blood loss. In their eyes, he saw hope, perhaps clearer than anyone had in Pearhollow since the days of Queen Efaritay.

Finally, the Pallises approached the corpse of the vyre, and Alexander whimpered as he caught a glimpse of its monstrous face, frozen in an expression of pure agony. “I-I don’t want to touch it!”

“Don’t be such a baby!” Sophia taunted, touching the vyre’s wing. “It’s dead; it’s not like it can hurt you.”

“What if it’s not really dead?” asked Alexander.

“Sophia, don’t talk like that to your brother!” said Cassandra, lifting the vyre by the head, while Leon lifted it from the other end. “Apologize, now.”

Sophia sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, in a tone more annoyed than apologetic.

“Don’t worry, son! It’s perfectly safe. Feels more like wood than a living thing,” said Leon.

Reluctantly, Alexander grabbed one of the vyre’s wings, keeping his face as far away from it as possible. Soon, however, he accepted that the vyre, dead and stiff, was no danger to anyone, and helped his family carry it away from the village square.

They paused for a moment as they reached the edge of the village, staring towards the fog-shrouded swamp of Mort Myre. “Well… this is it,” said Leon, taking a deep breath.

“We have a long trek ahead of us,” said Augustus, keeping his spear at the ready as he took the lead. “Stay with me and Jexel. Whatever you do, don’t wander off.”


	3. Oil and Water

Several hours passed as Jexel and Augustus led the refugees through the swamps of Mort Myre, stretching on and on with no end in sight and little in the way of landmarks. Day soon gave way to a starless, moonless night, the clouds like a wall between Morytania and the light of the heavens, and only the lanterns of the adventurers kept the group from stumbling about in total blackness.

“You’re sure this is the right direction?” asked Cassandra, her voice breathy from the long journey.

“I’m sure. We are going the right way, it’s just that more or less the entire swamp looks like this,” Jexel replied, glancing at his compass for a moment before gazing once again into the distance, scanning for any sign of danger.

The swamp was dotted with pools of dirty, stagnant water, and clumps of tall reeds made it difficult to see very far in any direction, even during the day. Every once in a while, Jexel would see a golden speck of light in the darkness, like an eye staring back at him, though he reminded himself that each one was just a harmless will-o’-the-wisp and not some evil creature of the night.

Eventually, the party came to a small hill overlooked by a gnarled, dying tree. The ground there was drier and firmer than the rest of the swamp, being farther from the water, and there was a burned out fire pit in the center. Someone had set up camp there fairly recently, but there was no sight of them. Perhaps the Myreque had passed through?

“This looks like a good place to rest,” said Jexel. “We’ll continue our journey in the morning.”

The family carefully set the vyre’s corpse down on the ground and quickly seated themselves, pleased to finally have a moment of rest. Meanwhile, Augustus threw a few logs into the fire pit, setting them ablaze with a spark from his magical spear.

As he inspected the campsite more closely, Jexel noticed that there was a pile of rags sitting nearby. They appeared to be someone’s discarded clothes, filthy and tattered, and as he brought his lantern close, he saw a metallic glimmer.

“Auntie?” Alexander called out as he approached the pile of rags. Jexel approached with him, making sure the young boy would not stray far from his protection.

“Auntie…” he said again, a worried tone in his voice as he picked up the glimmering object, a silver and jade necklace. “Where is auntie Rhea?”

There was a soft, ethereal wail in the air, getting closer, getting louder. The druidic pouch on Jexel’s belt glowed green.

“Alexander, stay back!” he shouted, drawing his sword.

The boy whimpered and scrambled away as a ghastly figure materialized in front of him. An apparition of a woman cloaked in tatters, wearing a phantom replica of the jade necklace. She was skin and skeleton, her flesh withered completely. Her lips parted into a shriek, revealing only a gaping, insatiable void behind them.

She lunged at Jexel. He deftly sidestepped her attack and retaliated with a quick thrust. As the blade impaled her through the face, she disintegrated with a shrill scream. There was another screech, and Jexel turned around just in time to see Augustus slashing through two more ghasts with his spear.

“Alex!” Cassandra shouted, dashing towards her son and cradling him tightly. “Alex, you’re not hurt, are you?”

The boy sobbed, hiding his face behind his long, curly hair and shivering with terror.

“He’s not injured, madam,” said Jexel. “We’re safe, at least for now.”

“Auntie Rhea…” cried Alexander. “The monster looked like auntie Rhea…”

“Her suffering is over,” said Jexel, gently wiping the tears from the boy’s face. “She’s with the Eternal Choir now.”

His assurance gave little comfort to Alexander, however, who continued sobbing.

“Alex, it’s going to be ok,” said Leon, retrieving a pear from his bag and placing it in Alexander’s hand. “Here, we saved the last pear for you.”

As Alexander bit into the Morytanian pear, his breathing seemed to grow slightly more even, and he stopped crying. “The pears always calm him down,” Leon explained.

The family huddled around the fire, finding some measure of comfort in its warm light, while Augustus stood watch, scanning the perimeter for any additional threats.

“Rhea, you fool,” Cassandra whispered despondently, gazing at the jade necklace in Alexander’s hands. “I told her not to leave. If she had just stayed in Pearhollow…”

Leon sat in silence, preparing a meal of potatoes and herbs and looking worriedly at his children. Though Alexander had quieted down quite a bit, there was no joy to be found on his freckled face as he sat in his mother’s arms, eating the pear.

Sophia was also quiet, and seemed to be eyeing the potatoes grilling over the fire. Despite the ghasts’ attack, she looked oddly calm.

“Sophia, are you doing alright?” asked Leon.

“I’m fine,” she said, her tone of voice eerily ordinary given the situation. “You always said we’d be safe when Saradomin’s chosen came.”

“Saradomin’s chosen?” asked Jexel.

“You,” said Sophia, giving him a condescending look, as if the answer should have been obvious to him.

“You think I’m Saradomin’s chosen?” he asked.

“You don’t know?” Sophia asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “Dad said that one day, Saradomin’s chosen would come to Pearhollow, and we’d know who they were ‘cause the sun would shine on them.”

“That… that’s not true,” said Jexel, shaking his head. “Saradomin doesn’t have a ‘chosen.’ He watches over everyone.”

Sophia shrugged. “Whatever. We’re safe now, and that’s what matters.”

“You’re really not upset about… about…” Jexel trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish his question.

“About aunt Rhea dying?” said Sophia. “Sometimes people die. I’m used to it now.”

Jexel opened his mouth, but no words came out. How could a child see death as something so normal? Was it really that common in Morytania, even in such a small village?

The group sat quietly as they ate their meal for the night. The Pallises had the potatoes and herbs that Leon had prepared, while the adventurers made do with hardtack. Once everyone had finished eating, the Pallises huddled together, wrapped in blankets they had brought with them, while Jexel and Augustus got out their sleeping bags. They drifted off to sleep, exhausted from their long journey. 

~***~

A sound. Danger. Jexel sprung from his sleeping bag, drawing his sword.

Nothing. Was it just his imagination? Some harmless noise he had mistaken for a threat?

“Relax,” said Augustus, who was already wide awake, sitting on a log and staring off into the distance. “We’re safe. At least as safe as you can get out here.”

“Augustus? You’re up already?” asked Jexel, returning the Skystone Sword to its scabbard. It was nowhere near as dark as it had been the previous night, but it still looked fairly early.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ve just been thinking about a few things.”

“Oh?” asked Jexel, seating himself beside Augustus.

“I can’t help but wonder… are these people really going to be any better off in Varrock?” Augustus replied. “A lot of farmers from Misthalin’s fiefs have moved to Varrock and gotten absolutely nowhere. Think about how much harder it’ll be for these people. They have no education, no money, no connections, and they’ve probably never left Pearhollow in their lives before now. Chances are they’ll be stuck working long hours for next to no pay for the rest of their lives.”

He paused for a moment, sighing angrily. “If the gangs don’t just murder them or sell them into slavery.”

“But you grew up in the slums of Varrock, didn’t you?” asked Jexel. “If you were able to become what you are, despite all that, surely there’s hope for them too?”

“I was one of the lucky ones,” Augustus replied. “There’s a wizard there who sells runes. I used to dig through his rubbish and build stuff from them; little contraptions to make life a bit easier. Well, some of them. Most of them were useless junk,” he chuckled.

“One day, the wizard caught me. He probably could have had me arrested on the spot, but he said I had a ‘wizard’s mind,’ and let me become his apprentice instead. Life was a lot easier from that point on, but can you really expect these refugees to do that? Would you also advise them to go wandering around in the countryside looking for another Skystone Sword?”

Jexel began to speak. “But surely the church-”

“The church couldn’t care less!” Augustus interrupted, raising his voice slightly. “We were useful to them. Every time there was a petition for the Church of Varrock to help us, the archbishop would blame all our problems on Zamorakian crime, then say some claptrap about the Edicts of Guthix, pretending they couldn’t do anything unless we got rid of the Guthixians, because making a move against Zamorak’s so-called criminal followers would upset the balance.”

Augustus took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “So I decided to go to the library one day and read about the Edicts of Guthix, and you know what? They don’t say anything about ordinary Saradominists. At all. All they do is prevent the gods from interfering directly. All that rhetoric about the Edicts was just a ploy to get rid of what little influence the Guthixians and Zamorakians still had in the royal court.”

“How…” Jexel seethed. “How can these people claim to serve Saradomin?”

“You were the one who toppled HAM, weren’t you?” asked Augustus. “I thought you would have known by now that just being a Saradominist doesn’t make someone a good person.”

“Yes, but those people were just some lunatic cultists,” Jexel replied. “You’re talking about the clergy. Saradomin’s representatives on Gielinor…”

“It’s not like Saradomin is here to tell them otherwise,” said Augustus.

“The priests I’ve met were good people,” said Jexel. “So many of the virtues I fight for, I learned from them. Is there really nothing being done to reform the Church of Varrock?”

“I’ve heard Sir Owen is trying his best, along with some of Varrock’s priests, but Raispher has a lot of power,” Augustus replied. “I don’t think we’ll be seeing any major changes until there’s a new archbishop.”

“That reminds me,” he added. “I wanted to thank you for what you told that little girl, about Saradomin not having any ‘chosen ones.’ Raispher always insisted that he and the priests who supported him were Saradomin’s chosen, and to hear a Saradominist with your influence challenging that idea… it gives me a bit more hope for the future of the church.”

“I promise you that whatever I can do to help, I will,” Jexel replied. “Speaking of the girl, there’s still the problem of what to do when we reach Misthalin… Are things really so bad in Varrock’s slums?”

“I suppose even the slums wouldn’t be as bad as life under the vampyres,” said Augustus. “At least they won’t be tithed there, and the gangs are nothing compared to those vyres. Still, it won’t be easy for them.”

“Perhaps we should bring them to one of Misthalin’s villages instead,” Jexel suggested. “They know how to farm, and I can spare a few thousand gold pieces for them to get started.”

Augustus nodded. “That would probably be the best course of action. In the meantime, we should probably get some breakfast, then get a move on. You brought some dwellberries, right?”

Jexel gave him a confused look. “Dwellberries? No.”

“Huh…” Augustus replied, sniffing. “I thought I smelled dwellberries.”

“Oh!” said Jexel. “That’s just my… umm…”

“Your what?”

“My… perfume,” Jexel replied, blushing.

Augustus shrugged. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to smell fresh. It’s not like there are a whole lot of places to bathe in Morytania.”

“I suppose not,” said Jexel. “Actually, I think it may have saved my life back in Meiyerditch. The vyres couldn’t seem to smell my blood.”

Augustus gave a murmur of approval. “Huh, that’s handy... Still I could have gone for some dwellberries. I guess it’s hardtack for us, unless we can find something else to eat. I’ll guard the camp while you see if there’s anything to eat around here, alright?”

“Very well,” Jexel replied, rising to his feet.

“Hey Jexel, one more thing?” asked Augustus, glancing at the vyre’s wood-like corpse still lying on the ground.

“Yes?”

“You said there was a soul trapped inside that vyre’s body. How did you know that?”

“I could feel it calling out for help,” said Jexel, sitting beside Augustus once again. “It’s something I learned to do as a child.”

“Oh?” asked Augustus, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

“When I was eight, my father was killed by the Skulls of Draynor.” he said in a slightly plaintive tone. “I didn’t know how to cope with it. He had always been there, and then he just… wasn’t. I must have been crying for days.”

He sighed deeply. It was still difficult to talk about, so many years later. “After his funeral, one of the priests spoke with me. His name was Father Urhney, and he had a reputation for always being in a bad mood, but that day, he was unusually kind to me. He taught me that when a Saradominist dies, they’re not really gone; they simply pass into Elysium, to sing with the Eternal Choir, and he taught me how to communicate with them, so I could talk to my father again.”

“Did it really work?” asked Augustus.

“I don’t know for sure,” Jexel replied. “I was able to hear the Eternal Choir when I prayed. I’ve even learned how to channel their power for short periods of time, but somehow, it never felt like I could hear my father.”

“Still,” he added. “It is a comforting thought. We Saradominists believe that everything that exists is connected as part of the Natural Order, and it brings me solace to remember that even in death, we will always remain a part of that Natural Order.”

“And the vampyres? Are they a part of your Natural Order too?”

“I…” said Jexel, a troubled look on his face. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t know.”

“Never mind,” Augustus replied. “I suppose we better get back to more important things.”

“Of course,” said Jexel as he walked away from the campsite. “I’ll see if I can find us some decent food.”

He did not have to walk far before he spotted the round, spiral-textured, red-and-black striped shell of a giant blamish snail sitting completely still in the reeds. It was almost a meter in diameter, easily large enough to feed the entire group.

He approached it carefully, making sure to stay away from what looked like its front. Blamish snails were known for their ability to spit acid, but they were also notoriously slow. As long as he was not in front of the creature, it would not be much of a danger.

He drew his sword, and with great care, used his free hand to flip the creature onto its back, stabbing at its exposed flesh. The giant snail sprayed a burst of violet-tinted acid into the air, but he was prepared; he had positioned itself where it could not reach him. As it struggled to flip itself back over, he carved away at it with his sword, until it struggled no more.

As he dragged the carcass back to the campsite, he saw that the Pallises were already up. Alexander sat next to Augustus, still draped in a blanket. Sophia wandered around the camp, eager to explore the unfamiliar lands surrounding her, though making sure to stay within Augustus’ sight. Cassandra was quietly looking into the distance, rubbing a scar on her arm where a tithing wound had healed, and Leon was sitting on a log next to his son, chatting with Augustus.

“It hasn’t been too hard to carry that vyre, has it?” asked Augustus.

“It’s no trouble,” said Leon, offering a friendly smile. “It’s lighter than it looks, and I’ve never felt this strong before. These veins aren’t used to having so much blood in ‘em!”

“Ah, here comes Jexel. Looks like he brought enough breakfast for everyone!” said Augustus, throwing some fresh logs in the fire pit and lighting them.

“Sophia, Alexander, say ‘thank you’ to Jexel for bringing food,” said Cassandra.

“Thank you,” the children said in unison.

As the group feasted on the snail’s plentiful meat, there was a sense of renewed hope in the campsite. Even Alexander seemed content, and Jexel noticed a smile on Cassandra’s lips for the first time. The family were much more talkative than they had been the previous night, and their minds were focused on the future, on Misthalin.

“So where shall we go after we reach the temple?” asked Cassandra.

“Once we replenish our supplies at the temple,” we’ll head through the mountain pass of Silvarea,” Jexel replied. “It’s a two-day journey from there to the nearest settlement, but it should be an easy one. There are roads there, and we’ll be past the most dangerous part of our journey.”

“There’s a huge city there called Varrock, home to hundreds of thousands of people,” Augustus added. “With your skill set, though, it would be better to settle down in one of the villages near Varrock, not the city itself.”

“Life there will likely seem familiar,” said Jexel. “You will have to give a portion of what you harvest to the local lord, but there will be no more blood tithes. You will no longer have to live in fear every day, and with the sun shining on you, you’ll be able to grow healthier, more bountiful crops.”

“Of course, you will need some materials to get started,” he added. “I can provide you with the money to buy them, with a bit extra just in case.”

Leon’s eyes widened with astonishment. “You would do all that, just for us?”

Jexel nodded. “I’ve been blessed with many opportunities in my life. Others have fed me when I was hungry. Provided me with shelter when I was vulnerable. Protected me when I was defenseless. Surely the least I can do is to give others the same chances I had?”

“If there’s anything we can do to repay you…” Leon began to say.

“No reward will be necessary,” Jexel replied.

Once the group had finished eating, they resumed their journey. For the next few days, they made their way through Mort Myre, though they encountered no further danger, simply a confusing mess of ponds full of stagnant water, reeds, mushrooms, and the occasional sickly tree. Eventually, the swamp gave way to slightly drier and more open land, until finally, the group reach an old gravel path.

“Look!” said Leon, pointing to a strip of blue on the horizon. “The Salve, at last!”

As they drew closer, the temple came into view. To the west, beyond the dark clouds of Morytania, the sun was setting, its fiery rays shining over Paterdomus and the Salve. The party entered the shadow of the temple’s gleaming white spires, and of the towering statue of Saradomin that stood upon the Salve. It depicted him in his aspect as the Divine Justiciar, a helmeted crown upon his head and his bladed staff forever pointed in the direction of Morytania.

The family stared in awe at the structure before them. “The temple… praise Saradomin!” Leon shouted, raising his arms to the sky. “We’re free! We’re finally free!”

As they crossed the bridge into the mausoleum of Paterdomus, they were greeted by a bald monk in plain robes. “Well met, Jexel, Augustus. It is good to see another group of refugees freed from Drakan’s evil,” said the monk. “Allow me to welcome you to Paterdomus, good people. I am Drezel Caistlyn, the custodian of the temple.”

“And I am Leon Pallis!” said Leon, shaking Drezel’s hand as his family set the vyre’s corpse down on the floor. “This is my wife Cassandra, and these are my children Alexander and Sophia.”

“Hello!” said Alexander and Sophia.

“It is good to see you,” said Cassandra. “The journey across the swamp was… difficult.”

“By Saradomin! That corpse…” said Drezel, pointing to the dead vyre. “Jexel, Augustus, did you actually manage to vanquish one of the vyrewatch? They said it could not be done…”

“Augustus and the Myreque have devised a weapon capable of harming the vyrewatch,” said Jexel, pointing to the flail strapped to his backpack. “There’s something about this corpse, though. I thought there might be a soul trapped inside, so we brought it with us. I thought you might know what to.”

Drezel approached the corpse, placing his hand on it. “Hmm… It’s very odd how the corpse has adopted a strange quality to the touch, rather like- oh my!”

“You felt it too?” asked Jexel.

“I sense a terrible turmoil within… a soul lost in oblivion,” said Drezel, a pained expression on his face. “Wracked with guilt and tortured by the lure of evil demonic pleasures.”

“What should we do?” Jexel asked.

“The columbarium,” Drezel replied. “Please, quickly! I’ve left some firewood and sacred oil there. Burn the corpse on the pyres; set this poor soul to rest. I will remain here, and prepare the refugees for the rest of their journey.”

Jexel and Augustus dragged the corpse down into the columbarium, a dimly-torchlit room built to resemble the four-pointed star of Saradomin. In the center was a stone pillar, surrounded by several funeral pyres, one of which had a vial of sacred oil sitting on top of it. Lying adjacent to the pyre, on the cracked stone tiles of the floor, were several maple logs.

Jexel placed the logs on the pyre, pouring the vial of sacred oil over them. Once they were prepared, Augustus helped him lift the vyre’s corpse, setting it atop the oil-drenched logs.

From his backpack, he retrieved the holy book of Saradomin, flipping through it to find the section on last rites. He began his recitation.

“The darkness of death comes to all mortals, for our forms are frail and fleeting, but death is merely a new beginning, for all that once was a part of the Natural Order shall remain a part of it. The role you played in this life will echo through eternity, and as you cross the Veil, we, the living, will remember you. May Saradomin guide your soul to light.”

As he uttered the last word, he felt a force from far away, almost as if the Eternal Choir was pulling on the soul of the fallen vyre. The vyre’s agony filled his mind. It was trying to reach them… yearning to be free.

Quickly, he unsheathed the wand on his belt. How did the spell go again?

Three fire. One air. One chaos. The power of the runes flowed from his pouch to his wand. Sparks burst from the wand’s tip as he brought it to the pyre.

Within a few seconds, the pyre was completely ablaze. As the corpse of the vyre crumbled to ash, he saw something rising from the flames. The spirit of a human woman, smiling brightly. She clasped her hands, as if in prayer.

“So it’s true…” he heard Augustus mutter.

As the spirit faded into the air, he felt its euphoria. The euphoria of a soul whose centuries-long suffering was finally at an end.

He sighed contentedly. The refugees were not the only ones he had freed.

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are with the fifth part of the series! This one was challenging to write, but a lot of fun as well. Not only is it my longest story so far, but also the first to take place outside of Misthalin. Hopefully I've succeeded in creating a darker, more oppressive atmosphere that conveys the power of the vampyres and the suffering of the people of Morytania.
> 
> Though this story is largely based on Legacy of Seergaze, I've obviously changed a lot of things around, most notably with Augustus and Pearhollow. In the quest, Veliaf mentions "outlying settlements" that pay blood tithes, but we never see any of them in-game unless you count Canifis. I decided to include Pearhollow in the story in part to explore what one of these outlying settlements might look like, and in part because the story needed Jexel to defeat a vyrewatch and bring its corpse to Paterdomus, but it would have been ludicrous for him to kill one in Meiyerditch, carry its corpse out of the ghetto, and somehow not draw the attention of every vampyre in Morytania, so I opted to have him visit an area with a much weaker vampyre presence instead, where he could realistically face a lone vyre.
> 
> As always, I would like to thank my readers for continuing to support my stories. If you've read this story, please consider leaving a comment telling me what you liked and disliked about it. I can always use more feedback.


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